Beautiful
by Miriamimus
Summary: She was beautiful, they had said, so what else mattered? A lot. Fleur wants to be loved for other things, her brains, her heart, her soul and a certain redhead might help her along. 3or4shot BWFD, please R
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This will be a three, maybe fourshot. IF I get reviews for it. If not, may remain as it is. Written without names or direct dialogue, but characters should be easily recognised.

* * *

Everyone, everywhere, every time, said she was beautiful. 

No one, nowhere, never, had said she was clever, or caring or brave without saying she was beautiful.

They had not cared that she could speak German and English as well as Cat. They had not noticed that her favourite pastime was taking her sister on walks through the green spaces in Paris. They had not deemed it fit to comment on how much she liked to explore, and was not afraid of the big dogs.

These things did not matter, for she was beautiful.

At first, when she was little, she had enjoyed the attention. She had basked in the glory of knowing the extent of the gift her grandmother had given her. She brushed her silvery hair a hundred times every evening. She washed her face thoroughly in boiling water every morning. She filed and polished her nails once a week.

Then all of a sudden, it got boring.

She no longer wanted to be a beauty. She wanted to be noticed for different reasons. She wanted to be seen for her brains, for her heart, for her soul. When she began school, she studied harder than anyone . No one could beat her as she spoke quick incantations to make spoons dance, to change mice from grey to purest white, or to brew a potion for peace.

And so, it was noted, she was intelligent.

When her father was seriously injured and was taken immediately to the hospital, it was her, and not her mother, who was squeamish, that visited him everyday with bunches of fresh flowers during that sweltering French summer.

And so, her elders realised, that she was loving.

When she had seen a small boy taken from his mother, the twelve year old had run after the kidnappers all the way down the Right Bank and jumped on one of their backs while a street hawker held the other one and the boy was reunited with his mother.

And so, they decided, she was courageous.

But above all, she was gorgeous, those well meaning old ladies had said, those godmothers and honorary aunts, and everyone had nodded in agreement. Yes, she would go far with a pretty face like that. She would not need magic to charm them all.

The girl was beautiful, and it was the most wonderful thing that could have happened to her. That was what they said.

What she heard was that she was beautiful, and nothing she could do would change that.

So resigned, she stopped caring. About everything. She did not go back to school. She did not reply to her sister's questions. She did not run after thieves. She did not brush her hair. She simply existed, and stopped all that made existence worthy.

Countless doctors had examined her and said time and love was what she needed.

So they all came back, those well meaning people. And they told her, she was clever. Caring. Brave. And beautiful.

And every time they came she lost all progress to a normal life that she had made.

In the end, the principal of the school had come. She had promised the visit would bring the girl back to normal. Madame, as she was called, settled her enormous bulk on a sofa and stared at her missing pupil. And she had asked, who cared? Who cared about how people looked? Madame herself, was not beautiful, but she was respected in the highest of places. What mattered was your composition, and your confidence. What mattered was not what people thought of you, but what you thought of yourself.

She had lifted the girl's chin and said Do you yourself think you are beautiful?

The girl had answered yes.

But you also think, Madame continued, that you are clever, and brave and loving.

The girl paused and answered yes.

Then come back to school, Madame had said. Come back to your life. Come back and say to your family, here I am. I am beautiful, but also I am intelligent, and caring and full of courage. Come back and show those who have hurt you that you will be hurt no longer. Come back and prove you are beautiful on the outside, but on the inside too.

And to the surprise of many, when the giant woman left, the girl had stood up, and was rummaging in bags for a hairbrush, a book, a present to give to her sister.

She had lived from then on, in full confidence of herself, and of others. She learnt to speak her mind, but also to listen to what others refrained from saying. She spoke without hesitance in any language it happened to be. She threw herself into everything she did. And for it, she was loved beyond her comprehension.


	2. Chapter 2

In her final year at school, as she came of age, she was taken away from the magnificent, elegant blocks of her home city, from the wide Parisian boulevards dotted with the greens and the massive museums where the tourists flocked. She was taken, by her friend Madame, to a cold, wet country called England.

For they were expecting great things from this girl. Oh yes. And what better start to give her than a chance to enter the famous competition?

She had a chance and she took it with her whole heart. She threw herself in as she had always done. The irregularities, however, disturbed her. This fourteen year old, could he compete? He was scared, she could tell. She, in turn, was concerned. But Madame had said how cruel the competition could be and how she must not show compassion towards her rivals.

The days in this country were short and cold. On one of them the girl battled a huge creature that breathed flames through its mouth. She had put it gently to sleep with the enchanted lullaby her mother had once sang to her. Her mother had often sang her to sleep. The girl needed her beauty sleep after all. The girl, caught in this daydream, did not dodge as a stream of flame blew through the creature's nose. Her skirt had burnt. She had destroyed the flames and looked up to the crowd pleased to find that they were sharing her thoughts.

She was beautiful, clever, kind, brave and vulnerable.

She had not won that part of it. But Madame had pointed out, it was not winning that mattered, it was about performing to your very best standard.

Then there was Christmas. She had danced, as expected, with a good-looking boy of no substance. Afterwards, her mind on what was still to come in the competition, she had followed him to the bushes, but knew the boy only wanted her for her beauty.

Then, as the days became crisp, she had found herself diving into a cold lake for an unknown treasure. Her head wrapped in air she searched and searched. But then, those monsters she had not learnt about, not in Paris, not in the South nor in Luxembourg were surrounding her. She had used the best of her abilities, but in the end she had floated to the surface. Only once she was wrapped in towels and her wand taken to be checked did she realise what was down there. Madame had never mentioned her sister was in the country.

The girl had watched anxiously as the two older boys returned with their own treasure. She waited.

Then, at last, the black haired boy stuck his head above the surface, and with him was her sister. She had kissed and thanked the boy. And the crowd thought, she is willing to accept defeat. She is gracious.

Then, as England's day grew to what they called warm, though it was breezy and damp compared to those summer days she spent in the South, it was time for her enter the maze.

Her mother and father had come to watch her. Her mother spoke in her beautiful lyrical voice that the girl had not heard for so long, her father bobbing anxiously beside her. We were worried, they said. We are worried about what they will do. After what they used your sister for, we are frightened.

The girl had listened, but not watched. Beyond her mother was another woman, who was plump and frizzy haired and shabby, so much more motherly than the tall, exquisite being that had her arms round the girl. The sort of mother the girl had always wished for. And beside her, with a face carefree and yet so careful, a man who, though he was young, had deep laughter lines in his freckled face. He was dressed in a creature's hide, with flaming hair that was swept backwards.

His eyes caught hers, and to her surprise, he had winked.

Then it was soon time for her to begin the challenge.

But after all her training, encouragement from her friends and long hours spent learning with Madame, she had not expected the boy. The boy with heavy brows who had been driven to enormous lengths by strange enchantments. She had let out one bloodcurdling scream and fell.

When she woke, the world was wrong. The brave English boy was dead, and the darkness was flooding back into the world.

In the white bed in the white room she had cried and cried and cried until she could cry no more. All the girl could think of was what if it had been her? What if it had been her and not the noble English boy?

One night as she sobbed the red head man came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Do not worry, he said. You will be safe.

She tried to explain that it was not herself she was worried about. He smiled and said Of course it isn't. But even if you do not wish to be safe, you will be safe. I hear you are taking a job here?

She nodded, that was her intention, to spend time here before returning home after a year.

Then I will be here, the man had said. After all, we all need our friends. Even if you are kind and brave and clever. Even then you need the help of others. My family and I are here for those who are far from home. Would you accept our friendship?

She had frowned then nodded. Then, said the man sitting down, we are friends.


	3. Chapter 3

And suddenly they were. The red head man found her a job in a bank, and the girl disappeared.

In her place came the assertive, attention commanding woman.

She spent her free time with the red head man and felt as she had never felt before. It was not love, like she had loved her father. It was not admiration, in the way she admired Madame. It was something completely different.

The woman and the red head man became very close in a short space of time. She found herself opening up to him in a way she had never opened up to anyone. She found herself telling him of the year she was twelve, and in return, received stories of his family, and a secret, what they were planning against the darkness.

But the woman, unlike the girl, did not care about the darkness for he was a never-wavering sun, a beacon of hope against which no darkness stood a chance. He appreciated her to the extent that she was, for the first time, completely proud of who she was. She was not like the young girl who found fault with herself, nor like the older girl who worried her best was not good enough. She was, fully and undoubtedly, herself.

And he was himself, laughing, joyful, yet serious, and unperturbed by the looks of jealousy he received from other men.

The seasons in the damp country seemed to pass, from gold to red to white to grey to green to blue and one day under the bluest sky imaginable, he asked the woman to become his wife.

She had smiled and agreed and kissed him and just like that, they were engaged.

He had taken her away from the noise of the city then, to the crooked house hidden amongst the hills next to the river where the weeping willows bent over like old men.

There she first experienced the mother. After the first glance before the end of the competition, the girl had dreamed of what it would be like to have this mother instead of her own. Her own mother had cleaners ands chefs at her command, she never did her own work. This mother had looked like the sort who would make you hot chocolate when you were sad, cook for you whenever you needed it, clean her house herself so it was clean and homely at the same time.

Yes, the girl had dreamed of it. But the woman had no need of any mother any more to look after her. The woman was longing for the avenues and walkways, where she had taken care of her sister, and proven her worth. The girl who had longed for a big family to care for her was gone. The woman, who wished for a big family to care for was here in her stead.

So she suddenly became annoyed by the red-head man's mother, who was always buzzing around, finding something else to clean or a chicken to feed. The mother in return, seemed to make things even harder for the woman, by never letting her do anything exciting, always keeping her in the house for some reason or another. The woman spoke out cruelly, as she knew she should not. She spoke against the mother, her children, her husband's job, her music, even the other young woman in love with a wolf, the one she had admired so much for her courage and brains. But sometimes the girl won out, wanting to impress by listening intently at meetings of the society and carrying out missions.  
But once, when she was asked to stay at home, on a cold night though the day had been green, the red-head man was in danger.

She had rushed to the school where the competition had been held, to see the crimson lines that crossed over and over upon his face. The mother had sobbed at the wasted effort of the wedding. The woman had spun round and proclaimed it was not so.

At that moment, something had clicked, and the girl won through the harshness of the woman's words. Suddenly she was hugging the mother as she would her own, for she realised that would be what she was, this matriarch would, as the red-head man had promised, in this very room, be her friend, and protect her as she was far from home.

But later, as the others left, she had bent down and touched gently the scarlet wounds. She had crooned quietly and said Nothing matters as long as you yourself can see that. She spoke rapidly in her own language. Madame said I could be beautiful as well as other things, she explained. So you can be other things without being beautiful. I will be beautiful for both of us and you, you shall be wounded and scarred for both of us. We shall be only one person, the two of us shall not exist, just one. I love you and you love me, it does not matter what we are. You said you would protect me when I was far from home. You do not need to do that anymore. I am not far from home. I am at home with you, and we shall be married and live and have a big family. And we shall live next to the sea, because neither of us have ever done that and we shall be happy, so, so, so happy that the darkness will not worry us.

The man had cracked open his eyes and said Yes, we will.


	4. Chapter 4

This is sorta epilogue-ish, 'cause in my own opinion, it doesn't really fit, but I wanted to round it off nicely. Enjoy!

* * *

They were married on the bluest day she had ever seen, running into an indigo night.

Things went wrong then, as the silvery being appeared and gave the warning. The darkness was in charge. They are coming.

The guests had fled, as is so right, but for those brave few, including the woman now married to the wolf and her husband, and all the other red heads except for the one who had been in the lake during the competition. He and the bushy-haired girl and the black-haired boy were gone.

The woman had sobbed for a ruined wedding and the worst start to their lives as one. But the red head man had shushed her and they had gone to their house, as promised, by the sea.

Here, against all the odds, although they were in more danger than ever, even though the darkness had taken over and brave people were dead, the woman worried about the little things. She now had her own household to run, however small. Like the mother she had spent the past year with, she did everything herself, and like her own mother, she kept it spotless. The wolf and his wife were living close by, the wife often came to the house, and though she spilt coffee on the furniture, though she broke things., the woman was glad of her company, and smiled when she heard that she was with child.

But the woman's own life was spiralling out of control. Soon her husband and her had to pull out of their work, their family was on one of the dreaded lists. They hid in the clean little cottage. Then the boy from the lake, her brother in law came. He had left the mission he said.

Glad to have someone to care for, she coddled him. But on Christmas Day, he vanished. Under the fairy lights, there was only her and her husband.

They lived like that for months, wrapped up in each other, happy and frightened at the same time. Happy to be alone together, frightened about the darkness.

As the days grew warmer, from grey to green, things happened all at once.

The youngest brother reappeared, with the girl and boy from the lake were there, with another boy and girl whose names she did not know, the old man who made wands, a goblin, one of the ones she had worked with and a dead elf. They buried him in the garden and the woman began to worry. She worried about those she was now watching over, she worried what would happen to them all, she worried about the darkness finding them.

Then the wolf appeared with glad tidings. His wife had given birth to a beautiful baby boy and the black haired boy was to be godfather. The woman was happy for them and worried once more for her own family, if it would ever exist.

But soon the old man, the blonde girl and the black boy went away. The goblin and the other three were plotting. All of a sudden, they were gone and once more they were alone together.

That night came the news. The war was here, at the school and they should fight. They went through the secret entrance to the room that was not always there. The woman prepared herself. She looked and saw the fear in the older people's eyes, the tiredness in the young ones, and everywhere, the resignation to battle. They were all so ready. So eager and brave and loving. There was the final red-head boy who had come back to his family. There was the wolf, who had left his wife in safety. There was the black-haired boy whom everyone was searching, back to fight at last. They were amazing in the amounts of their qualities.

And all the woman was, she realised, was beautiful. After all her contradiction, the well-meanings had been right. It was not her place in the world to be courageous, unselfish, self-sacrificing. That was the people around her.

Then, that thought still in her head, she was fighting. And she realised. It did not matter. As Madame had said, it did not matter what others thought. She would survive this war, and shine for her husband who needed beauty to replace his own. She would survive, and help those who had lost so much, those children who needed a comforting arm.

She would be beautiful on the inside too.

When the fight was over, she found her red head man and buried her head into his chest, and they cried for the loss of the prankster, the wolf and his wife. As the woman sobbed the man comforted as she comforted him.

She would remember that day, the day of realization as she held her first daughter in her arms almost two years later. When no one was looking she bent down and whispered into the tiny baby's ear.

I started out like you, she said. We all did. Something whole and tiny and perfect. Did you know that? Well you will be better than all of them. You will have everything they dreamed of. You will be clever. You will be brave. You will be loyal, you will be ambitious, you will be loving and caring.

And, the woman finished. You will be beautiful, Victoire Fleur.


End file.
